


The Morning After

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Written for gblvr and originally posted to Livejournal in 2009.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gblvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/gifts).



> Written for gblvr and originally posted to Livejournal in 2009.

“I’m sewenteen!”

McCoy blinked. Then blinked again. “It’s four in the morning.”

Chekov looked momentarily confused and then held up a bottle. “I brought vodka.”

“Well, in that case,” McCoy replied. He rolled his eyes but stepped aside for the younger man to go bounding into his room.

They’d been back Earthside a couple of days now. Getting used to the whole “saviours of the universe” thing. Kirk was lapping it up, of course, but his mom had arrived that night and they’d gone off to have a family celebration that McCoy hadn’t wanted to gatecrash (though he’d been invited by both of them. Twice.)

Instead he’d stayed up late drinking with Sulu and Scotty, and some of the guys and gals from Engineering. And even, he thought, Spock, at one point. But then he’d crawled over to his room to sleep a massive, oh, one hour ago.

He looked over at the Russian who was making himself at home, clearing away old glasses and getting out new ones, moving medical data pads from the chairs over to the shelves packed with pictures of his daughter and generally giving McCoy a headache.

“What did you mean?” McCoy asked. He took the shot glass that Chekov handed him and downed the clear liquid before automatically holding out his hand for more.

“Vhat?”

“When you arrived. You said you were seventeen.”

“I am!!” Chekov said proudly, puffing out his chest a little.

“Yeah…” McCoy took another drink but didn’t feel any the better for it. “What?”

“Sewenteen is old enough to do many things, in Mother Russia.”

“Look, I’m a Doctor not a….”

“Things like this,” Chekov interrupted. And then he leaned forward and started to kiss McCoy.

For a few moments filled with awkwardness and impossible complications McCoy stayed absolutely still. Then an inner voice that was not unlike that of Jim Kirk’s said “go for it” and McCoy did. He opened his mouth and let Chekov in, then got up and started to pull him towards the bed, still kissing him. Still trying to work out whether or not this was a good idea or yet another monumental fuck-up he’d end up trying to forget over a bottle of Romulan ale. But for the moment they were heroes. Saviours of the universe.

And anything was possible.


End file.
